


Follow My Rainbow

by LilMissFerret (Power_Rangers_Vendian)



Category: Power Rangers
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:31:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7441096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Power_Rangers_Vendian/pseuds/LilMissFerret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Pirate Rangers! In the Lost Galaxy six unlikely people are brought together by accident. What will they do with their new found bond? (Set in the continuity of PRV, with all focus characters set to appear in PRV in the near future, not connected to Mega Force or Super Mega Force)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Glint of Green

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Just to clarify again, this has nothing to do with the Super Mega Force rangers, but the upcoming suit will be from that season. This is just a miniseries, with one chapter per ranger (including silver), and a short epilogue to tie them all together. They will probably not get any further screen time aside from their mentions in PRV (our giant story about the second generation becoming rangers).
> 
> Any further questions can be asked as comments or PMs, I'm pretty good about getting back to people.
> 
> P.S. The chapter titles will give you the ranger in question's color. Beware that the chapter order is subject to change.

The sun burned over the desolate planet of Kavira, scorching everything it touched. Despite the unbearable heat two hundred beings from across the galaxy stood among the sands and stone.

Heavy iron chains bound them by their ankles to a gang line, tethering them together as they pounded away at the ground. Using picks and shovels they worked at the sandblasted rocks in search of a rare crystal hidden within.

Men, women, and even children as young as ten toiled away, their work overseen by an insect like beast and a hoard of mindless minions.

"Fuck this," Said cursed, kicking a loose stone across the sands. "I'm tired of being here with these monsters." He was sixteen, just young enough to be so rash.

"Shut up, or you'll end up underground," the gnarled old man to his left warned.

"Oh, what's it to you?" He snarled back. "Are you so content to spend the rest of your days shriveling in the sun?" He'd had his fair share of slave labor. Hell, he known nothing else.

"Boy, I've seen everything there is to see on this miserable husk of a planet. What you see is what you get." The man sighed, shifting his pick in his hand, "Some days it hurts so much I can't even bend my fingers, but I know the moment I slow down, that'll be it."

"Do something about it then. Stand up. Fight."

The old man shook his head, "I'm old, son, too old to win this battle. Better to go on and give the young ones a chance. Who knows, some dashing heroes might swoop in to save us at any moment."

"Ha! Those stories of rainbow clad warriors? Those are fairy tales, you old fool. I won't sit here and hope for something that's never coming." Said huffed again. He was tired of this life, of any life that held him captive.

His bright brown eyes flicked over the trail of people until he found their overseer some fifty yards away. The ugly beetle creature had his back to them, and none of the mindless swabbies were near by either, leaving the moment full of opportunity.

He swung the pick with every ounce of strength he could muster. The tip, dulled from heavy use, slammed into the thick chain connecting him to the others in line.

The chain was thick, but brittle, and in three quick swings he was free. He bolted, pick held fast, and without a second look. He had no plan, no idea what to do or where to go. His body was on autopilot, dashing over the sandy soil as fast as his feet would carry him.

Anyone that tried to stop him fell, bloody and screaming as the pick struck. Human, monster, and minion alike. But, despite the unending heat of this desert, his blood ran cold as the overseer approached.

The beast was three times as thick as he was, two heads taller, and had a menacing set of pincers for a mouth. He clicked as he talked, breaking his words into an almost intelligible mass of syllables, but the threat was clear.

Said laughed. He had no family, no friends. He was one of countless lost children, stolen, bred, or sold into this life. His meager existence was all he had to offer.

Without thought he surged forward, but his attack was caught midair. The beast flung him back, head over heels, so that he landed in a sore and dusty heap. By some miracle he managed to hold onto his only weapon, which he then used to push himself to his feet.

The monster before him laughed, clicking his pincers in a eerie crackle. "Poor little human, too weak to even swat a fly."

"Brave words for a bug," he sneered back, his words coming out braver than he felt.

Clicking angrily, the monster charged him again.

Pick raised, Said slammed the weapon into the incoming monster. Sticky green goo oozed from the wound on his left arm, but the injury didn’t seem to slow him down.

“Pathetic creature!” the monster clicked. “Stand down and I just might let you live!”

“Fat chance,” he sneered back. “I refuse to be your slave. To be anyone’s slave.”

Said didn’t wait for the bug to strike this time. No, this time he surged forward using the pick like a battering ram. As top heavy as he was ugly, the beast fell backward with a heavy thud, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The monster tried to roll to his side, but it was a struggle Said didn’t give him the chance to overcome. Before he could over think it, he swung the pick high above his head.

The hunk of metal embedded itself into the monster’s chest cavity, spewing green goo in a massive arch.

Covered in filth, Said bolted towards the horizon, leaving his weapon behind. He didn’t pause after that. Not for anything, not even when his legs almost gave out from exhaustion. He had no idea where he was going, or when he might get there.

When he finally could go no further he collapsed, face down in the sand. His breath came in ragged torrents and his muscles screamed.

The shots and screams were the worst, they filled his head and echoed off his skull. Many people, just like him, dead because of his selfishness.

He could have had some remorse for the ghosts that had followed him, pledged to thrive for them all, but no. He felt nothing, numb to the horrors he had just faced. He couldn’t even be happy for himself. Not yet.

 


	2. Taste of Blue

**Taste of Blue**

Derrick didn't mind this life of his. It was nothing glamorous, hell, it could be down right disgusting, but you couldn't beat the perks.

He had been to some of the fanciest places in town, from the well to do merchants hovels to the grand palace of the local nobility. He traveled with a large group, aliens from all corners of the galaxy.

They had any sort of being you could imagine, male, female, or somewhere in the middle. He wasn't the only human in the group, but he was among the few, especially of those that had his perfect body and smooth, chocolate skin.

His appearance made him a fan favorite, which made his handler set him more out in the open, and then, in turn, his popularity would spike. The vicious cycle meant he was left to please dozens of beings, not that he minded much.

After the troop's latest performance, Derrick had been loaned out to a wealthy widow, and after a night of sweaty extravagance, he now sported a new outfit.

The garment, which covered nothing but his private bits in the front and nothing in the back, made him a little nervous. Nerves weren't a new thing for him, although he had largely gotten past dancing in front of the hoards, he still was asked to do weird and wild things all of the time. Many acts he would not ever do again if he had the choice, others he found surprisingly enjoyable.

Regardless, that was his lot in life. He simply made other peoples lives a bit more entertaining. He wasn't about to do anything to disrupt his place, but he had never considered _her_ either.

He had been busily perusing the crowd for a likely customer, when everything had turned on its head, even though he hadn't been aware of it yet.

Derrick laughed at some inane joke a slightly portly, but very rich contact of his mistress had made about the state of The Alliance of Evil.

The fat man glanced at him from the corner of his eye. It was hard to tell, since his face was already a ruddy shade of red, but he might have blushed.

Bodhi Sai, who was currently pretending to listen to the retort from his underling, wasn’t in town often. He was from Eltar, which was well beyond the Armada’s reach, but he still liked to dally in a bit of black market trade. It made him an interesting target, and a well paying one at that.

Rolling his well defined muscles in a lose stretch, Derrick gave him a seductive wink. As if on cue, the man snagged a frothy lime green drink from a passing waitress and passed it too him.

“Thank you,” he said with a coy smile. The man wasn’t hard to fluster, especially since Derrick had some previous experience with the man. In fact, it had been him that had suggested, and then paid for, the piece of decoration he saved for his clients. The memory of the procedure had his anatomy doing some fairly intense tingling, but he pressed that to the back of his mind. He had other things to focus on.

“I dare say, you’re looking quite, ah, adventurous, today, Derrick,” the man told him, his previous conversation on hiatus.

He lowered his eyes and plastered on a shy smirk, as if embarrassed, “A gift from a client, sir.”

With a quirk of an eyebrow, Bodhi seemed preoccupied with some mental image he had conjured at the thought. “Ahem. Well, Bhatt, if you’d excuse me, I’m afraid the alcohol as run straight threw me this evening.”

If the assistant cared one way or another, he didn’t show it. His bland, emotionless face remained still as he nodded, “Shall I go find Wraith, sir? Perhaps we could secure that shipment coming in from Tholix?”

Absentmindedly, he agreed. Bodhi’s attention had drifted once more, this time to the spectacle Derrick was making as he bent down to fix the strap on his sandals.

Satisfied, the smaller man vanished into the crowd of chatting people, leaving the pair alone. “Is the fee still the same?” Bodhi questioned him then, his voice low.

“Afraid not,” Derrick answered nonchalantly. “Miss Glamm insists I ask for 500 pieces.”

With a sorrowful shake of the head, “I swear, that woman hikes the price every time I come calling, doesn’t she?” That wasn’t exactly true. Derrick had been setting his own price for a long while, slowly raising it as his confidence had grown. He’d never had a returning customer turn him down.

Bodhi gestured to the exit along the far wall, adding yet another happy client to his mental list. “I’m in 315.”

It was only after that particular session - two long hours of questionable integrity - that he came across the one thing that sat between his comfortable existence and a life of turmoil.

_Lucy_


	3. Splash of Red

The giant hull of the space ship loomed over head, shadowing the dusty ground below. Marvel studied it with awe, admiring the smooth lines and impressive size. Like all ships in the Armada, and many in the surrounding ring, it had the look of an old world sailing ship, but with many improvements.

He had grown up on a ship much like this one except in stature. He had been a cabin boy aboard that vessel, working alongside many of his family members. His father’s family had been spacefarers for several generations, and he was happy to live up to the family name.

There ship had been captured, however, and even working for one of the most advanced societies in all of their star system hadn’t been enough to spare them. If anything, it had made them a better target. His youth and quick wit had come to his rescue, sparing his life for a while at least.

Despite the carnage he had seen, and his family’s lives lost, Marvel had quickly impressed his captors. He scrubbed decks, worked ropes, and hoisted sails for a few years, but that line of work would never be enough for him.

Now, staring at his new residence, a sense of pride surged through him. He had been assigned first hand on deck, an overseer of sorts for the lesser men onboard.

With a satisfied smirk, he stepped onto the ramp, yanking the bag that carried his meager belongings higher onto his shoulder.

**o.O.o**

Two months after he boarded the stinking hunk of metal that was The Oppressor, Marvel was uneasy. His charges flitted nervously at his feet, scurrying like mice to stay out of his way.

Life had turned sour, and he gritted his teeth as the foul-smelling reminder of that sauntered up to greet him. The captain stunk of heavy liquor, and his green teeth could disgust even the most strong-stomached. “Marv!” he shouted enthusiastically. “You missed dinner! You’re scrawny enough without skipping meals!”

Marvel fought the urge to smack his superior across the face. “I’ve been busy, sir. The hull sprang a radiation leak below decks.”

“Ah, boy, you work too hard,” he laughed while he leaned in to grasp his arm. “You need a little fun in your life.”

To his credit he remained quiet, no matter how much he wanted to spit he was so angry. It took every last bit of his will power to not scream about how much he wanted nothing to do with the fun the captain had in mind.

“Go, eat,” the captain commanded him then. “Seems I need to find myself another drink.” To elaborate, he held up an empty bottle before chucking it across the room.

Marvel had hoped that that would be the end of it, the stars were not on his side that night. Instead, after a quick meal of gruel and beer, Marvel retreated to his cabin to find a discarded jacket flung over his small chair.

His room was sparse, yet the tiny room felt cramped with its bed, desk, and chair, but it was monumentally better than the rank cluster of hammocks deeper in the ship. Marvel didn’t need to look up to know who the jacket belonged to, but he managed it anyway. He took a deep breath as he looked to his guest.

Now even more intoxicated, with his breeches untied, and a hand buried underneath the coarse material, the captain watched him from the mattress.

Judging by his hooded gaze and stiff struggle to sit up, he had just woken from a nap, likely startled by the opening and closing of the cabin door.

Suddenly Marvel began to shake. His legs felt like jelly, and his breath hitched in his throat. He wanted to run, but where? They were 20 million miles from the closest planet, and it wasn’t as if he could just jump overboard.

Without a word, the captain waved him closer, but jelly-legged or not, he couldn’t move. Undeterred, the captain rose to his feet, somehow made more threatening by the dim candle light that filled the room.

The broad shouldered man proceeded to advance on him, slowly backing him against the wall. “N-no,” he stammered at last. “Not again. Please.”

His pleas fell on deaf ears, however, as the captain reached for him. “Come here, boy.”

But Marvel couldn’t let this-this violation happen again. He knew it wasn’t just him, either. He had seen the other boy in his charge crying in corners, hidden all throughout the ship.

The quick flash of an idea rocketed through his panicked mind, sparking him into action. Marvel knew he had to act quickly, before he lost both his chance and his nerve.

He dived to his left, but the move went less than stellar, leaving him in a crumpled heap just a few feet from his attacker.

The captain growl, kicking the chair that had fallen along side him. “Don’t make me hurt you, Marv,” he threatened darkly.

“No,” he challenged with sick amusement. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

When he had fallen he had managed to snag the man’s jacket from the chair, knocking it over in the process. The captain always kept his gun handy, hanging heavily from the right pocket.

Now, with the cool metal in his hand, Marvel felt a lot braver. He pointed the gun at the man’s chest, daring him to take another step.

“Why you little shit!” he laughed. “D’you think I would leave a loaded gun lying around?”

He thought the question over for a moment, but decided with a shrug, “Only one way to find out.”

Marvel lowered the gun at just the last second, firing point blank between the man’s legs. For a moment the world flashed red as the laser blast shot free. It penetrated deep into his flesh, searing everything it touched.

He didn’t take any amusement from the crumpled mass of flesh at his feet. The captain writhed in pain, unable to hold his tongue. Marvel found his feet then, and stepped around the shrieking mass.

Satisfied that the monster before him had suffered enough, he grabbed him by the hair, yanking his face around so that he could look him in the eye. “I’ve seen beasts of all sorts in the god-forsaken galaxy, but I’ll sleep a whole lot better knowing that you’ll never be able to hurt anyone ever again.”

The captain didn’t comment, but at least he had quieted somewhat. His mouth moved wordlessly as he fought to speak, but his moment didn’t last long.

Marvel dropped his hold quickly, leading the body fall back to floor. He then lowered his weapon, this time pointed at the man’s temple. With one final pull of the trigger he was free.

The cabin door never did open, as he had hoped it might. But, then again, no one had ever come to his aid either.

Skirting around the cooling corpse, Marvel hoisted the heavy jacket from the floor. The thick red material was embroidered with gold, and sported thick brass buttons. It was quiet the fashion item, and would mark him for what he now was - Captain.


End file.
